The Widow's Creek
by TolkienScribe
Summary: Thranduil, the King of Mirkwood joins his soldiers in a night of merrymaking and gaming. Light-hearted one-shot. Complete. Part of Green Leaves universe. Enjoy! :) Rechecked and re-updated.


**Author's Note:**

 **Disclaimer:** Not one dot.

Part of the Green Leaves Universe.

Enjoy.

oOo

 _Greenwood the Great,_

 _Third Age,_

 _Pre-Hobbit,_

"No," Thorontur said firmly.

Thranduil looked up at his senior advisor with mild annoyance.

"For someone who served my father and now me and have experience with my son Legolas, you fail to remember our line is well known for stubbornness. We could argue this for months, years even, and I will eventually win."

Thorontur looked at his king with exasperation.

"Thranduil, keeping in good relations with the Mannish villages is one thing, trade on the other hand-"

"And how else are we to bring supply of the things we need?" Thranduil interrupted. He rest on the back of his chair and looked up at the advisor across his desk. Thorontur was leaning forward, both his palms on the polished wooden surface. "We certainly can't produce them. Do you have any other plan in mind? Gone is the time when we could live in our forest uninterrupted and make do with what we have." Thranduil spoke truth. Greenwood's soil was rapidly becoming infertile. Crops no longer grew the way they once did.

"We have had disagreements in the past negotiations. They simply would not move from their demands which are highly unreasonable. A part of our forest to be cut down for wood? To hunt deep into the forest for game?"

"Such matters can be negotiated in time."

"The Men won't consider it!"

"You are starting to sound like a Noldo, forming an opinion on a matter by glimpsing it a bare few times."

"Says the Elf who dislikes Dwarves."

"Dwarves are meant to be disliked." Thranduil said loftily. Thorontur glared at him. Thranduil sighed.

"Our land is no longer fertile for harvest. Surely you must have seen that. We can forage what we can but only by so much. We need supplies from Men just the way they need it from us."

"We will discuss this in the morning." Thorontur said.

"What you mean is you need the time to think of a way to stall me in the morning." Thranduil said. Normally his advisor saw sense but even he had his shortcomings. Thorontur had poor trust in Men.

"That's very true," Thorontur murmured.

Still, Thranduil decided not to pursue it. He was certain there was a way for Thorontur to see sense. The council agreed with Thranduil regardless.

Back in his rooms, Thranduil took off his robes and changed into his bedclothes before reclining by the fire. Legolas was not within his Halls, he knew. His son frequented a nearby haunting for soldiers who returned to the Halls from duty. It was a lone tree that grew right at the edge of the mountains, with a shallow stream in front of it. The soldiers named it the 'Widow's Creek'. Oropher never approved for the merrymaking, and sometimes dangerous stunts that occurred there by those who were deep in their cups. Thranduil never minded. The liveliness and laughter was mesmerizing. He was a regular visitor as a Crown Prince. He had not visited the place ever since he became king.

A sudden longing sparked into Thranduil's heart. He was not always a king, certainly. A life of a soldier surrounded by comrades he trusted with the stars and leaves above and soil beneath was more welcome to him. It was simply the life he pursued in his youth, in Menegroth when it was required for young male nobles to join the soldiers to learn the craft of war. Thus the court never took his interest.

He glanced at himself in the looking-glass and gave a small smile. He changed his clothes, leaving his bedclothes on the bed and dressing in simple shirt and trousers, his rings denoting him a king and nothing else.

Thranduil stepped outside and found his guard Mithon standing right by the door, leaning against the wall. Seeing him, he snapped to attention. Thranduil narrowed his eyes at him.

"Which one ordered you here?" Thranduil demanded. "Thorontur or Legolas?"

They all knew Thranduil tolerated small levels of impudence only from Mithon. All the guards were trained to ignore orders if it meant the royal house's safety. But that did not mean either Thranduil or Legolas enjoyed the protection. They tolerated it, Thranduil more than his son, but never enjoyed it, particularly within the Halls.

"Neither," Mithon answered. "It is simply my duty tonight."

"And if I were to say you are hereby dismissed for the night?"

Mithon did not give in so easily.

"Not until I am for certain another guard stands watch in my place." Mithon lowered his eyes meaningfully at Thranduil, who was certainly not dressed for bed. Thranduil passed his guard the most withering look he could muster but Mithon stood his ground.

"You can come with me."

Mithon broke into a wide smile.

"Would you like that? Lord Thorontur will ask for full record."

"Then get you gone from here." Thranduil said. "I will be with my son, for that curiosity clear in your eyes."

"I guessed."

"At the Widow's Creek."

"Of course," Mithon said, "A word of advice, if you allow my impudence in assumption, my lord. Be careful what they give you to drink. The quality has suffered over the years."

"I will remember it." Thranduil said solemnly. Mithon gave a deep bow and excused himself.

Thranduil went down to the stables and found his horse waiting for him. It was a stallion with grey dappled coat.

"Let us go, my friend." Thranduil said, allowing the horse to blow on his hand. "I yearn for the forest tonight and the freedom it brings." The stallion blew hard and pawed the ground.

The Widow's Creek was very near to the Halls, and Thranduil reached it quickly. He heard laughter before the Creek came into view. There were no sentinels standing guard, and there was no need. The trees here were friendly to the Elves and they offered the best protection. The forest broke, and showed him a narrow, shallow stream winding down from the base of a single tree. The widow tree was old, it's trunk wider than five Elves standing together with gnarled roots spreading far and wide. The branches were thick and the leaves were lush and dense. Elves sat on stones near the creek and drank and sang merry songs. Thranduil dismounted his horse and went up to the tree.

His son was easy to find among the dark-haired Elves. The nearest Elves to Thranduil recognized him and would have bowed if Thranduil did not gesture them otherwise. Feeling a new pair of eyes on him, Legolas turned and saw his father. Passing his cup to an Elf near him, Legolas opened his arms wide and strode up to his father.

"Father! This is indeed a welcome surprise."

He approached his father and clasped his arm, Thranduil doing the same with him in a traditional warrior's greeting.

"Does Thorontur know you are here?" Legolas asked in a low voice.

"He is certainly not informed." Thranduil answered.

"Ah, I see." Legolas said. His eyes narrowed in mirth, the skin crinkling. Then he raised his voice, "the king joins his people today! Get him a drink!"

Thranduil was offered one and he took a cautious sip.

"This tastes terrible!"

"The recent barrels were not of the best make."

"I noticed!"

They laughed and chatted for a while. The Elves warmed quickly to the king. He was well-loved among his people. Then Thranduil caught a glimpse of the targets nearby.

"Drinks are fine but I wish for something more," Thranduil said. "It will be sorry indeed if the targets are left unattended! Join me, my son!" Thranduil clapped his hand on Legolas' shoulder. Legolas looked up in alarm.

"Are you sure, father?"

"Do you question me?" Legolas' smirk became more apparent.

"Nay, father. It is simply the fact that I may be superior in this field."

"Such arrogance!" Thranduil said, laughing. "I will let you know that I am an adept archer when it comes to gaming, especially if there are stakes." The challenge between two royals was something the Elves were happy to witness. Hence, bows were provided, the quivers were filled and Thranduil and Legolas took their places. The game was best two out of three. Thranduil and Legolas continued to shoot arrows, the targets moving further and further. The last was to shoot in the presence of distraction, which the spectators were happy to provide. Thranduil listened partially and managed to keep his astonishment and humour in check until he shot all his arrows and then turned his eyes at his soldiers.

"It seems you have learned inappropriate language from the Race of Men!" Thranduil said.

"You have not heard everything, father," Legolas muttered as he took his position. Then with a grin he added, "I will win this round." Thranduil's smile faded. Legolas was the better archer. And he had no doubt he was more used to distractions in archery. Then he remembered Legolas' childhood, how a sudden light touch at Legolas' back of neck or behind the ear used to jerk him in surprise. Thranduil ambled behind Legolas, twirling an arrow as he did, while Legolas drew back his bow and aimed. He lightly traced the skin behind Legolas' ear just as he saw Legolas' shoulders tense before releasing.

Legolas jerked as he expected, sending the shot in the outermost ring of the target. It was beautiful. Legolas turned and looked at his father, gaping in disbelief. Thranduil gave him a smug smile.

"We are all victims of our own hubris at times," Thranduil said. Legolas scowled, obviously not happy with the outcome.

"How did you do that?"

"I raised you, played with you." Thranduil said, using the end of the arrow to flick Legolas' ear, the feathers tickling Legolas behind the ear. Legolas instinctively twitched away. Thranduil's grin grew wider. "I know many weak points." The round went to Thranduil.

"The next round will be on horseback." One of the soldiers said.

"Bring me my horse." Thranduil said. Then he frowned. Archery was not his first option. He preferred to game or hunt with it, and not pursue it as a weapon of war. As such, he lacked Legolas' speed of loading and drawing the bow on a full canter upon a horse.

Instead of fitting the quiver across back, he took the quiver and used the belt and looped it around his belt around his waist. He tugged to make sure it was secure. Thranduil and Legolas then mounted their horses and strode to the far end of the field. Thranduil went first, at a steady canter and shot all targets. His aim was perfect. So was Legolas. Steadily the speed grew faster, and much to Thranduil's annoyance, he missed perfection by almost an inch.

Before Legolas could gloat, however, one of the captains of guards on patrol, said, "A single Ellon comes close, and he does not approach with the attention of merrymaking."

Archery forgotten, Thranduil turned to look with everyone else. A single Ellon could be seen making his way towards them. He wore white garments, the cloak black as night and silver thread resembling the stars in the sky and eyes flashing in annoyance.

"That would be my advisor." Thranduil said. He set his longbow upright, one tip digging into the soil. He called out to his advisor. "Welcome! If I had known the way to persuade you to join us here at the Creek was only way, I would have come here years past."

"There will come a time I will lock you in your very chambers, my king and make sure there is a battalion posted at every entrance and you would only be free to leave when there is need of you or in the court is in session."

Thranduil laughed unperturbed. Most of Thorontur's threats stemmed from frustrations rather than from genuine intention.

"Well, nothing can be done tonight, considering you came alone." Thranduil said, tilting his head and looking comically behind Thorontur and looking mildly surprised at the lack of guards. "Come and join us."

"I will refrain from challenging the king in my current state. I do not wish to harm you."

Thranduil raised both brows. Thorontur, in spite of his initial and fast disappearing irritation, could not help but smile. The king looked truly happy and content under the widow tree.

"I believe my abilities as a swordsperson has just been questioned and brought to doubt." Thranduil addressed the crowd. The soldiers surrounding them laughed. "Come, Thorontur. I will answer this challenge."

"I refuse."

"Surely you are not denying your own king. Let us place stakes as well."

Now Thorontur was truly wary.

"Stakes, my king?"

"Aye," Thranduil said. "The matter we spoke of earlier when night fell-"

Thorontur immediately understood.

"No!" Thorontur said firmly but Thranduil took no notice.

"Defeat me and I will keep my silence on the matter. However, if the victory is mine, then I will continue on as I planned. You will not object."

Thranduil paused.

"And a bottle of wine… the finest you have in store."

Thorontur narrowed his eyes at him.

"Come now," Thranduil said, laughing. "The weather is fine, the stars are bright and the Ellyn are merry. That is, of course, if you fear defeat then by all means, do forfeit."

Meeting Thranduil's gaze, Thorontur quickly realized this was Thranduil as the Crown Prince, with easy smiles and quick wit and of course, a way to handle Thorontur's pride.

"You haven't changed one bit." Thorontur growled.

"You haven't changed either." Thranduil said.

They were given practice swords and they took their positions opposite to each other. Elves gathered eagerly around, the merrymaking by the stream and by the targets thinning down to watch the show.

In the beginning, Thorontur and Thranduil circled each other. Each feinted but neither fell for the trap. Thorontur stepped forward, his sword nearly catching Thranduil if it were not for the fact that Thranduil's raised his sword at the last moment. After that, every time Thorontur advanced, Thranduil stepped lightly back.

"Frightened, my liege?" Thorontur asked sardonically.

"One must be careful not to fall in traps."

"One must be careful showing fear in front of the people he leads." Thorontur retorted with a quirk of his lips.

Thorontur gave a forward thrust and Thranduil blocked the blade and side-stepped, letting it sail past him. He used the pommel to smartly hit Thorontur's exposed side, making him stumble but the advisor recovered quickly and stepped back before Thranduil could take advantage. They circled each other once again. The silence was palpable. Everyone watched the show eagerly. No one dared to cheer for the king or the advisor, knowing it was wise to stay silent and wait for the winning side to emerge.

Thorontur feinted to Thranduil's right but Thranduil saw through it and blocked Thorontur's blade on his right. He struck, was parried and retreated. Each searched for the other's weakness, but both were experienced fighters.

"Did you know you favour your left more than your right?" Thorontur asked. He feinted again but Thranduil lightly stepped back. The king smirked.

"Did you know you talk only when you don't see an opening?"

"Lord Thorontur!" A single voice gave a cheer.

"Whoever gave that cheer will be dismissed from service!" Thranduil called back, but his voice was full of mirth, leaving his words meaningless. Scattered laughter erupted.

As he talked, Thorontur gave a full assault. Conversation died as Thranduil blocked each blow. Much to the king's dismay, he realized he was giving ground.

"We are all victims of our own hubris at times!" Legolas called out. The tense silence broke into ripples of laughter. Thranduil broke through the blows and struck back, forcing Thorontur on the offensive.

"I'll have you scrub kitchen floors for your cheek, boy!" Thranduil barked. He bore down on Thorontur while looking for any weaknesses. Then an idea came to him.

Still bearing down on his advisor, Thranduil dipped his sword and let the tip scrape through the well-trodden dirt. He twisted it up, letting the dirt fly into Thorontur's eyes. The advisor stepped back with a gasp, eyes instinctively closing. Thranduil kicked him in the middle, sending him flying back to the ground. One foot pressed down at the wrist of his sword arm and the other on his other arm. He lightly touched Thorontur's neck. "Dead," he announced.

"Yielded," Thorontur said. "Now get off of my wrists, Sire!"

Thranduil stepped back, letting Thorontur rise and grab his sword. They greeted the cheers graciously and in the end, even Thorontur was laughing.

"I win," Thranduil said.

"The Valar must have your side, then, my king," Thorontur said. "But I will take comfort in the fact that I was the one who defeated you multiple times when you were but a prince!" Tankards were passed to the king and the advisor, contents sloshing against the sides.

"Well-played," Legolas said. "So what does the victory accomplish, father?"

"You will find out soon enough, but first-"

Then Thranduil's hand shot out and grabbed Legolas by the neck.

"Hubris, eh?" Thranduil asked, eyes glimmering. "Let me teach you about hubris, boy!"

Legolas was still laughing while Thranduil walked, the king lightly shaking his son every now and then. When Thranduil reached the stream, he pushed his son towards it. Legolas landed into the stream with a splash but once he stood, the stream barely ended at his knees.

"It was not even deep!" Legolas called.

"That is an assurance." Thranduil retorted. "I can't have my only heir traveling to the Halls of Mandos so soon!"

Legolas laughed.

"Come! There is still some time to the break of dawn! There is much merrymaking to be had."

"Nay," Thranduil turned twinkling eyes at Thorontur. "We must go through Thorontur's collections."

Thorontur's scowl deepened but there was some humour mixed among it.

At the return of the Halls, Thorontur and Thranduil lounged in the highest of the balconies with an open bottle and crystal goblets. The silence was companionable, settling upon them like a warm blanket in the chilly wind.

At last Thranduil broke the silence.

"We settled our argument on a swordfight."

Thorontur hummed in reply.

"I wonder what father will have to say to this."

Thinking what the late king would have done made Thorontur laugh. Oropher by nature was a very private and quiet Elf, with aloofness in his character. He stood on firm beliefs, even though his heart was generous and brave. No doubt he would be appalled by the way the two handled the matter of the kingdom. But then, Thranduil was not his father. His ways were sometimes unorthodox, but then the Silvan Elves did not mind. They too, were informal.

"He may be more surprised both of us drawn blades against each other and we escaped without Kinslaying." Then suddenly Thorontur's face changed until it became stormy. "You said in your promise that you will keep your silence had you suffered defeat. You said nothing about taking action."

"Ah, wordplay was something my father taught me."

"You would have taken a step without consulting me or your council!"

"There is no need to raise your voice. You are ruining the wine and the scenery."

"Valar deliver me from the House of Oropher!"

"Keep praying," Thranduil said with a laugh. "It will be long ere your prayer is answered!"

 **~S~**

 **Author's Note:**

 **Update 2015:** Rechecked and re-updated.

-Quote "We are all victims of our hubris at times", belongs to Kevin Spacey.

-Good? Bad? Do tell. :)


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